


Overwatch One-Shots

by Queen_Selenay



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, Humor, Light Swearing, Multi, Oneshot collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Selenay/pseuds/Queen_Selenay
Summary: A collection of basically self indulgent one-shots, original fan characters paired with everyone's favourite heroes. Updates on no set schedule with tags to be added as needed.





	1. Junkrat - Ooooh! Shiny!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First chapter features everyone's favourite Junkertown explosives expert and a Scottish mechanic with a lot of patience

"Charlie love, ya busy? I've gone and come a bit of a gutser..."

"Ye dinnae say?"

Charlie chuckled and looked up from the turret he was helping Torbjorn with, shaking his head a bit. Junkrat - or Jamie, as the Scottish engineer knew him - was peeking through the door like a child that had gone and made a mess. Charlie had been expecting Jamie to come looking for him sooner or later. He'd been up half the night with some new idea for his concussion mines, and he'd taken off for the practice range almost as soon as they had finished breakfast. Roadie hadn't gone with him, a sure sign that whatever the explosives expert was up to was going to result in injury or property damage...or both.

"Yeah. Gone and blew something up I maybe shouldn't have."

It was unsual for Jamie to be this sheepish; usually when he'd destroyed something, he was proud of the damage he'd managed to do, and when he'd gotten hurt he was usually insisting that it was just a scratch. Charlie wondered if maybe he should be worried, but covered it up with his usual Scottish bravado.

"No. I canne believe it. Jamison 'Junkrat' Fawkes went and blew something up he shouldn't have!" Yep, something was not quite right. Usually his sarcasm made Jamie laugh. This time, though, it just seemed to pull the usually chaotic man further down in the dumps. "....ah dinnae fash yersel, love, we'll get you set to rights." Charlie didn't bother cleaning his hands off as he stood and waved a quick good bye to Torbjorn. If Jamie's issue was medical, he'd sooner drag the man to see Angela than try and remedy it himself. Charlie's skills were in the mechanical, not the medical.

Charlie didn't even have to ask what had happened; as soon as he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him, it was obvious. Jamie's peg leg wasn't really supporting him; in fact, it was more of a hindrance to the man's movements. Clearly, he'd managed to damage it badly, as it was hanging at an awkward angle. Charlie would be able to fix it without much trouble, but that wasn't what had him so surprised. "Jamie....you dinnae hop one-legged all the wae from the range did ye? Cor, why dinnae ye call me or Roadie?....wait. Ye blew your phone up too."

A slightly subdued version of the man's usual manic giggle left him. "I dropped it actually!" he said, eyes shining as bright as the fire that often sparked in his hair, "You shoulda seen it, love, I was flying almost as high as that metal budgie lass! Love to see her talk about aerial superiority now!" He was starting to go from sheepish to excited again; that was good. At least whatever had wrecked his leg hadn't done anything to dampen his spirit. That was one of the things Charlie loved about him. It never took long for Jamie to bounce back from something that didn't quite go the way he had planned it. He supposed it came from growing up in the hellhole that the Outback had become after the Omnium down there went tits up.

"Dinnae think you should be stepping tae Fareeha, love, she's a scary bird," Charlie said, putting an arm around the scrawny Junker and Jamie's arm over his shoulders to help him balance while they headed off down the hall together. Charlie had his own workshop just down the way from Torbjorn's, and everything to fix Jamie's limb was kept there. "Besides, I prefer me 'Rat down here on the ground. Easier to get a nip from ye." To illustrate his point, Charlie leaned up and placed a kiss on the ma's soot-covered cheek. He then wrinkled his nose and added, "But before we fix yer leg, you're tae the bath, ye manky bastard!"

"Oh c'mon love!"

"I'll join ye innit."

"...deal."


	2. Mei - Back to the Ecopoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double posting because I'm excited to finally be a part of the site!
> 
> This time we've got a oneshot featuring Mei, an Irish climatologist, and a return to Antarctica. Inspired by one of Mei's voicelines triggered by playing 3v3 on the Ecopoint map.

The wind howled eerily as the door of the dropship opened into the Antarctic chill. Mei-Ling Zhou shivered as she stood and peered out at the twisted, forgotten remains of the ecopoint she had once called home. The broken windows and empty buildings hunched in the snow like the bones of great beasts forgotten in the harsh wasteland. From where they had landed, she could see the reason for her return: the cryostasis lab, where her fellow ecopoint scientists had gone to their final rests. "I never thought I would come back here..." she said softly. A lump rose in her throat and she felt tears beginning to gather in her eyes. Even now, the pain of losing people who had become her family was still so intense, sharper than the cold trying to peirce through her heavy gear.

A hand encased in a heavy glove came to rest on her shoulder. Mei looked up at the man attached to the hand, knowing that being here was not pleasant for him either. Nine years ago, Dr. Daniel Kerrigan had been a junior researcher with Overwatch. He would have been the one in Adams' place had things worked out differently, and he would have been one of the lives lost to the crystostasis malfunction. Now, he was one of the world's leading figures in the field of cryogenics, and he had come here to help Mei do two things: recover her colleagues and give them proper burials, and find out why the cryotubes had failed. 

Of course, they had not come alone, but when the team reached the cryostasis chamber, they allowed Mei to enter first. The tears came again, fogging her glasses as she looked up at the darkened tubes with the now long-frozen cups of tea at their feet. 

She hadn't had much time to greive when she had first awoken. Survival had been first in her mind, followed quickly by the realization that she had almost a decade of data that could be used to save lives all over the world. Scientists had been dissecting Mei's data since she had managed to make contact with the outside world. She had been swept away to Watchpoint: Gibraltar as soon as Winstone heard she was alive. Everything had happened so quickly after the recall. 

Now, here in the tomb-like silence of what had once been her home, everything that had been pushed away began to press down on her. The sheer weight of what had been lost settled on Mei's shoulders. Why them? Why not her? Why had she lived while the others had perished, and what could she had done to prevent it? Guilt had her heart in a vice, making it difficult just to breathe.

She sank to the floor of the chamber as sobs wracked her body. Snowball whirred and beeped softly, trying to comfort her. Soon, the little robot had company. Daniel had been running through the final bits of data available before the tubes had begun to shut down, and seeing Mei like this, he just had to do something. He had checked the diagnostics, the records from the last maintence check, the last vitals check, everything. The cryostasis chambers were never meant to support life for so long continuously. They just...gave out. It was a cold, unsatisfying answer, but it was the truth. However, now was not the time; they could talk about this later.

For now, Daniel knelt down next to Mei and wrapped his arm around her, letting her get out everything she had pushed away for so long.


	3. Widowmaker - Ooh La La

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Widowmaker feels the stirrings of her once forgotten humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's not Friday but whatever, I'm in a good mood and finally got off my duff long enough to write a new chapter so have a Valentine's Day update!

Snow fell heavy on the streets of Moscow as her citizens geared up to celebrate the Christmas holiday. Lights twinkled in windows and children stared goggle-eyed at the displays in toy shop windows. Their parents stared into shop windows as well, but their expressions were rather more...grim. They watched as TVs in electronics shops showed the news coverage of the Omnic crisis in Siberia, footage of their brave troops holding back the looming threat of invasion by the cold, unfeeling Omnic hoardes. The might of the Russian Army, suplimented by the technology of Volskaya Industries, kept them safe to celebrate the holiday, somber though it was for many families missing their soldiers.

There was a small undercurrent of hope, however. The very quietest stirrings of a diplomatic solution had begun to appear in the newspapers as representatives of the government and the Omnic forces began holding meetings. These meetings were icy and peace was far off, but the fact that they were happening at all was progress that just a few scant years prior would have been thought impossible. A diplomatic end seemed possible...and for certain groups, that could not be allowed.

The organization Talon had a particular interest in not only ensuring the Omnic Crisis kept going, but that it spread. IN the words of their newly released leader, "Only through conflict do we evolve." The Crisis had to continue, and Talon was willing to go to any lengths to ensure it would. That was how one Widowmaker, formerly Amelie LaCroix, found herself attending a Christmas Eve performance of The Nutcracker by the Moscow Ballet Company. One of the leading advocates for a diplomatic solution with the omnics was also attending. Her orders were to assassinate this man just as she once had the activist Tekharta Mondatta, and to make the death appear to be the work of omnics.

Widowmaker had concealed herself easily in the catwalks above the stage, unseen by the audience but able to easily spot her target sitting in one of the balcony boxes.The sniper had a clear shot...but did not take it just yet. She was emotionless, a killer without remorse or regret...but bearing here, the ballet, a place so alike the places she herself had once spent many hours in, was strange. The music played and the dancers took their places, telling the story of Klara and her gift from her Papa Drosselmeyer. The movements were mesmerizing, the music hypotizing, and as she watched the show unfold bleow her, Amelie thought she almost felt something. 

What it was, she couldn't say...until the familair first notes of the Sugar Plum Fairy's dance trilled through the air. The dancer fluttered into place for her variation just as delicate as any actual fairy. The she began to dance and Amelie could not take her eyes off her. The dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy was one that she had seen hundreds of times before but there was something about this dancer. The more she watched the woman, the more that she began to feel that same something. It was almost like the feeling she recieved from a kill, that too-rare feeling of being alive again. Unlike the thrill of kill, however, this feeling didn't dissipate within a few minutes. It lasted, long after the dance was over, long after Amelie had pulled the trigger, long after her target slumped over in his seat and she was able to use the chaos of the ensuing panic to cover her escape.

Long after the mission was over, thinking of the dancer made Amelie feel alive. It was something she had not felt since Gerard, and it wasn't just the dance. She watched other ballets, other performances, other dancers, but none of them brought her that same feeling of being alive as the woman in Moscow had. She had to know more about the woman. 

She had to go back to Russia.


	4. McCree - Draw!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Justice ain't gonna deliver itself."
> 
> McCree returns home to clean up the dregs of Deadlock, only to find someone else already there

Deadlock Canyon had always been an arid, barren desert hellscape, but as far as Walker Blue was concerned, it was his arid, barren desert hellscape. He'd been born and raised in the area, and he'd left only when the military had called him. He had enlisted in the US Air Force and served as a combat medic. He'd served with his unit all over the world, in some of the best and some of the worst places he had ever seen. He'd seen the glittering towers of Numbani, the lush gardens of Oasis, and the strangely beautiful juxtaposition of new and old in Ayutthaya. However, nothing would ever compare to the red sandstone cliffs of home. Nothing could ever ruin this place, not even Deadlock....but goddamn did fucking Overwatch come close.

Their Blackwatch division had come busting in like the gun-slinging cowboys you saw in the movies, setting up a sting and springing a trap on the gun-running gang that had run the place for years. They'd done such a good job, they told themselves, patting each other on the back. They'd taken the big dogs and slammed them in jail and then...they just fucking left. They bounced and left a power vacuum that all sorts of scum was trying to fill now. Deadlock had been garbage humans, but at least they'd had some sort of organization and hierarchy. They'd been all about the money, making more of it, and the heads of the gang had managed to keep their thugs in line. High body counts were bad for business.

Now you had every little biker gang and drug dealer thinking they were gonna be the next top dog, getting into pissing matches and fighting within their own ranks as much as they fought with each other. Getting rid of Deadlock had just increased the violence. Walker worked at a clinic in the nearest town and most of the deaths he saw were over pointless slights, a $20 loan or someone flirting with someone else's girl.

Walker had lost his parents to a shoot out between a couple of rival gangs last spring. People were moving away left, right, and center and anyone that stayed became isolated and suspicious of even their closest neighbors. Walker didn't know about anyone else, but he was fucking sick of it. That was how he and a handful of other like-minded people, themselves also former military for the most part, ended up becoming vigilantes. Now, their actions weren't any more legal than those of the gangs they sought to eradicate, and it wasn't long before Walker wound up with a price in his head to rival those of the gang leaders. He didn't let that stop him though. He was going to keep going until his home was safe again. He and his gaggle of vigilantes managed to do pretty well; the smallest gangs went first, too disorganized and splintered to stand against a para-military group like theirs. Then Walker made the mistake of getting cocky.

That was how he one day found himself alone, out of ammunition, and staring down the shotgun barrel of a man who called himself The Rattlesnake. He'd rounded up the dregs of Deadlock and moved into their old hideout in the canyon. Walker had tried to infiltrate them and set up an operation to take them all out at once, only for his cover to be blown. He'd made the stupid mistake of going in without backup. Now, here he was, surrounded and without an escape. I suppose this is how I die, Walker thought. He'd done what he could, he supposed. The canyon was safer than it had been. Hell, maybe his death would be a good thing, give people a martyr to rally around like that Omnic that had gotten killed over in England. Yeah...that would be alright by him. Walker closed his eyes and waited for death.

It didn't come.

Instead, he heard a deep voice echoing from somewhere near above. "It's Hiiiiigh Noon...." What the fuck? 

A volley of gunfire followed, making Walker's ears ring. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable shot to hit him but there was nothing. Cautiously, slowly, he opened his eyes. The Rattlesnake was dead. His thugs were dead. Was that a fucking tumbelweed ? What the actual hell was going on here? 

Walker turned and looked up towards the source of the voice, and for a second, he was sure he actually had been shot and was hallucinating as he died. A cowboy was standing on top of a semi-trailer nearby. A literal cowboy, like an extra in an old Clint Eastwood movie. What was more, this cowboy looked...familiar. Walker had tangled with Deadlock a time or two before Blackwatch burst in. He had known a handful of their members. He'd heard that someone had actually joined up with Overwatch to avoid jail and now here he was, free as a bird and smirking at him.

"Jesse McCree.....you fucking dick!"


	5. Hanzo - I do what I must.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo reflects upon his past while considering the many paths divulging before him, each leading into the future.
> 
> Inspired by the little glimpse of Hanzo we get in the Reflections comic.

Winter in Hanamura was always a sight to see. Hanzo remembered the quiet winter mornings of his childhood, the snow in the garden and the frost on the cherry trees of the Shimada castle. These were sights that he might never see again, but in the years past, he had made peace with this. He had made peace with many regrets of his past...but never the biggest one. The knowledge of what he had done to his younger brother still loomed over the man like a storm cloud. Hanzo had thought he had made peace with his biggest personal demon; he had come to accpet himself as a monster, beyond redemption despite his actions and his attempts to seek it. 

Then, he met Kuma. Her name meant 'bear' and it was as fitting a monniker if ever there was one. He had met her in a seaside village, the daughter of the man who owned what passed for a sushi bar in the rural hamlet. She had called him trouble the moment they met, and she was proven right very quickly. Hanzo might have distanced himself from the Shimada clan, but their enemies still followed him, right into Kuma's family's business. Hanzo wasn't sure what they had been expecting, but being beaten by an old man with a broomstick and a woman with a sushi knife wasn't it. He also wasn't expecting Kuma to chase him out of the village with that same knife.

That single encounter set off a chain of events that culminated in Hanzo having the one thing he never again thought he would have - a family. He and Kuma had a child now, a son named Natsu. There was another baby on the way, also a boy. This was what had brought Hanzo to face the personal demons he thought had been slain long ago. Two sons, two brothers, an elder and a younger. He feared making his father's mistakes despite trying so hard to distance himself from all he knew of the man. Would Natsu become like he was, rigid and cold, clinging to old traditions? Would their unborn child become rebellious and headstrong like Genji had been? Would he be able to keep himself from becoming the patriarch his father had been? Driven by tradition and the old ways, would he be able to accept his sons if they didn't turn out as he thought they should? What did he even think they should be, for that matter?

"Hanzo."

It was late, he and Kuma in bed together. He'd thought her asleep - the woman was as fierce as her namesake, and in the winter months, she slept as deeply as a bear did too. Now, though, she was wide awake.

"Your thinking is keeping the baby up," she said softly as she turnd onto her side, one hand resting on her growing belly, "Genji again?" There were no secrets between them; she knew what he had done. He didn't answer but he didn't really have to. This wasn't the first sleepless night he had spent ruminating on his actions. Kuma carefully got to her feet and crossed their little room, stepping over Natsu where he slept at the foot of their bed. They rented a room in Hanamura, small and cozy but enough for their needs. Kuma came back to bed with a little bundle of papers - letters from Genji.

"He's forgiven you, Hanzo. You haven't forgiven yourself...this Overwatch he talks about. Defenders of humanity during the first Omnic Crisis, and now they come together to answer the call again; you want redemption? Here it is." She reached out and took his hand. "What have we to lose, really, if we go to Gibraltar? Time and a little money? We've got enough of both to spare." 

Hanzo nodded, looking down at his brother's latest letter. They had been coming from Nepal but this one had come from a place he called Gibraltar. Overwatch, the formerly disbanded worldwide protection agency, was starting again, illicitly this time. Genji had reached out to him to offer him a place in their ranks, to redeem himself and to reconnect. Hanzo had been more than a little hesitant to accept but...Kuma was right. He sought redemption and forgiveness and it had been handed to him practically on a silver platter.

"Very well," he said as he folded the letters and returned them to the drawer they lived in,"I will make arrangements tomorrow." Genji had mentioned a pilot, a woman named Lena, who would be able to bring him to Gibraltar since it wasn't exactly a place one could get to easily. Hopefully she wouldn't mind two extra passengers.

Kuma smiled and kissed his cheek before lying down again; she was asleep within minutes. Hanzo tried to follow, draping an arm over her and resting his hand on her stomach. His parents' soft talking must have woken Natsu too; it wasn't long before he was wiggling in between his parents. Normally he would have been sent back to his own mat, but just for tonight, Hanzo let him stay. The boy curled up against his father's chest, little fingers curling in Hanzo's pajama shirt. 

As Hanzo lay there, one arm around his son and the other hand resting on Kuma's growing baby-bump, he made a silent promise. No matter what happened in Gibraltar and beyond, he wasn't going to be the same kind of father his own had been. He was going to be better.


End file.
